Showtime
by Harlequin Gaga
Summary: Thirty minutes until showtime. Mag knows that she will die tonight, but Luigi isn't ready to let her go. Plenty of flashbacks, a dab of Mag/Luigi, and a focus on Mag overcoming her past. (I apologize that there's no mention of her friendship with Marni! Don't hate me!)


Her long, dark curls fell in cascades down her back. Her back like porcelain, white as snow and smooth as silk. She slowly raised one delicate hand to her cheek, and looked long and hard at her reflection. Magdalene had always been comely, with her doll-like features and large, blue eyes strongly contrasted by her thick black hair. Her lips were thin, but a beautiful dark red and moist to the touch. Behind those appealing lips were her teeth, tongue, and throat. That throat was an amazing thing. From a young age, that throat had given Magdalene the voice of an angel.

A young girl blessed with vocal chords like no others, yet cursed with eternal darkness. Blind Mag, that is what they called her. Blind Mag, the world's greatest opera singer who had never even seen her own flawless looks. Sitting at her boudoir, she closed those huge, window-like sapphire eyes. She remembered walking the dirty streets of the city with only her ears to guide her. There were dangerous grave-robbers constantly roaming the alleys and the ever-feared repo men. Most nights would lead her to a dark, damp corner next to a pitiful fire, where her only comfort was to sing to herself. Blind Mag was a celebrity to the penniless vagrants of her home.

Magdalene hated the alley. Of course, she loved the kind people she met there who helped her regain confidence and feel like she had a family, but the memories were too harsh. How could she ever feel affection for a disease-infested rat hole with danger at every corner? The one place that would forever remind her of her days in the dark. Then again, it was that very alley which led to her salvation. Mr. Largo had stepped right up with his shiny, black shoes and expensive cane. He smelled of fine cologne, and even a blind girl knew she was in the presence of the wealthy. Mr. Largo had stepped right up and listened to her sing for a whole night, and even a blind girl knew that he was smiling.

From then on, Magdalene's life had never been the same. Mr. Largo was a god to her; great and powerful with the ability to change anyone's life. He led her from that cold, pitiful fire and into his limousine never to return. He promised her as she sat shivering and scared on the fine velvet-lined seat that he would help her see, and he would help her sing to the world. With breakthrough technology and a completely unheard of surgery procedure, Mr. Largo had given Mag eyes. Not just any eyes of course, but extraordinary eyes with inhuman powers. They could record memories and project the images for Mag to relive again and again, but none of this even mattered. All she had ever wanted was the gift of sight, and Mr. Largo had given that to her.

Of course, that was many years ago. She had been only 19 then. Now nearing 41, she had spent decades by Mr. Largo's side; always serving him. Mr. Largo was a god to Mag; great and powerful with the ability to change anyone's life, but cruel and controlling. Tears pooled above her long, thick lashes and were soon running down her white cheek, smearing her dark makeup. Magdalene sobbed and lightly dabbed at her ruined mascara. She would have to fix that up soon. Curtain call was in…thirty minutes. A sigh escaped those beautiful, red lips.

Seeing had been so beautiful, so wonderful. All the bright city lights, all the different colors. It was beyond anything Mag could have ever fathomed. Of course, she had moved into Mr. Largo's building. His surgeons would have to watch her closely for the rest of her life, as the surgery process was highly experimental. But she didn't care, didn't care at all. Well, until…until…

Magdalene got up and away from the mirror. She smoothed the burgundy and black feathers that covered her bodice and straightened her spiked wrist-bands. Walking around the small dressing room, she hummed an old tune softly. "Think of Me", it was called. _Think of me; think of me fondly when we've said good-bye. Remember me once in a while- please promise me you'll try. _Such a timeless, gorgeous old song; always with an otherworldly calming effect. The harsh memories had escaped Mag for a little longer, and she continued to apply her rouge.

"Mag."

With a crash and a splatter, the cold white makeup fell to the floor. Mag gasped and turned around, her train flowing behind her and a few dark curls falling out of place. A tall man with dark, slicked back hair stood by the door of her dressing room. He hid his face behind the high collar of his heavy black jacket, but it was obvious his attire was quite expensive. He had big blue eyes, though a faded harsh blue. Quite different from Mag's innocent, child-like crystals. He was much younger than he looked; only 37, though worry and anger had creased his fine, fine features and aged him visibly. Magdalene knew this man. Magdalene ran to this man.

_Luigi_. He stood awkwardly as she threw herself into his arms, shivering and sobbing. So, so thankful for his company. He placed one glove hand on her bare back and tried silently to comfort her.

"Mag," he said again. He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face to the light. His eyes closed, and he swallowed hard. "Mag, are you… are you all right?"

She nodded meekly. "Luigi," she whispered, "Thank you for coming to see me. I think…I think I'm scared." She linked her pale arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest, listening to the frantic beat of his heart and breathing in his musty smell that constantly fought with his stubborn cologne. So many years ago they had met, though it seemed like only yesterday.

Magdalene was only 19, shivering and scared on the fine velvet-lined seat of Mr. Largo's limousine. She felt bodies on either side of her. "My bodyguards," Mr. Largo had assured her. They were simply for her own protection. She could tell from the volume of his voice that Mr. Largo was seated across from her. Oh, what she would give for sight. He was whispering lowly to someone…someone. Who? She whimpered and tried to make herself as small as possible.

Mr. Largo chuckled. "Never fear, _amore_," he said in that soft, mysterious voice of his, "My name is Rotti Largo, and I own a very powerful medical industry. We specialize in advanced surgery techniques to replace useless organs with something more…futuristic." Mr. Largo smiled, though Mag could not see this. "So, _tesoro_," he continued, "would you care to tell us your name. Your parents could not have given you that hideous label- Blind Mag."

She fidgeted in her seat, still weary of the mystery fifth person in their little meeting. "Magdalene, sir," she squeaked, "That's my name." She placed a cold hand on the seat, feeling the soft fabric and again marveling at the wealth this man must have.

"Magdalene," Mr. Largo said, "What a beautiful name, _amore_. I believe my dear late wife was fond of that name, even dreamed of giving it to a daughter one day." He reached out and took Mag's shaking hand; a gesture which Mag thought surely meant that she was in trouble for petting the seat. Sensing her sudden fear, Mr. Largo patted the young girl's hand and again smiled a smile she could not see. "Speaking of which," he continued, "I would like to introduce you to my son, Luigi."

Magdalene's heart started racing. She was so nervous around new people. True, she was relieved to know it was no authority figure or repo-man sitting with them, but still... "Hello, Luigi," she whispered.

A low chuckle came from beside Mr. Largo. A creak of the seat, and Mag knew that Luigi had leaned forward, had come closer. "Magdalene," he said. His voice was rough and harsh, strongly contrasting his father's soothing whisper. When he said her name, he drew out each syllable, as if he found the word amusing. Mag figured he was a jokester, who never took anything too seriously. She instantly felt a dislike growing in the pit of her stomach.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he continued in a faux-Italian accent. Was he mocking his father? "You are quite…lovely, Magdalene." He chuckled. "Such a shame you can't see for yourself."

There was the harsh sound of skin on skin as Mag realized Mr. Largo had struck his son. "Luigi! That was completely uncalled for," he growled.

Mag gulped and again tried to will herself smaller. "Mag," she whispered.

She could feel both Luigi and Mr. Largo looking at her. "What'd you say?" the harsher voice asked. She could tell from his tone that he was completely shocked she had spoken again.

"Mag," she said again, "Please, just call me Mag. Magdalene is such a _pretty_ name. It's not fit for me." She turned her face down to escape their stare.

"Oh, Magdalene," Mr. Largo laughed, "you are such a beautiful young girl with such talent! Never again will you think of yourself this way, promise me. We are going to make you a star, _amore_. You will _see_, believe me. I will give you sight, and you can share that magical voice with the world."

Mag heard Luigi scoff. She felt his gloved hand on her arm and instantly shot back. She had no idea why he frightened her so, but she found herself absolutely terrified of displeasing him. He giggled a mean-spirited giggle and grabbed her arm, pulling toward him and pinning it in place.

"Listen, Mag," he said to her, "this whole 'make you see' surgery has never been done before. The geezer's absolutely positive it'll work, but- c'mon- he's senile! _I_ don't think it'll work. It's a crazy idea, and you'll probably get yourself killed. If I were you, I'd get out of this limo and go back to that dopey little fire of yours and pretend like all this mess never happened."

Mag suddenly stopped desperately trying to free her arm from his gasp. She was still and focusing of the feeling of his hand on her skin. His words had been cold and threatening, but she couldn't help but find an odd comfort in them. She looked in what she hoped was his direction and tried to smile. "Thank you, Luigi, but I would give anything to see. If your father believes this procedure will work, then I have no choice but to trust him. I hope you understand."

Luigi let out a rough, slightly insane laugh. He moved his hand down to place it in hers, and shook it soundly. "I think I'm gonna like you, Mag," he said, and even a blind girl knew she was blushing.

Oh, that was almost 22 years ago, but the memory still made her blush. She giggled against Luigi's chest and felt him laugh along.

"What's so funny?" he asked, stroking her long dark hair.

Mag shook her head. "Nothing, dearest." She pulled away from him and walked back to her boudoir. She sighed as she looked her reflection. So many had called that face beautiful, so many had remarked on her looks, yet she had never seen it for herself. In that mirror, all she saw was an old woman scared out of her wits and crying like a child. "I'm going to die tonight, Luigi," she said, her voice as straight and clear as an untouched mountain stream.

Still standing by the door, Luigi tensed and took a step forward. "Please don't say that, Mag." Much to her surprise, she could see him shaking. Luigi Largo, known to the entire world as a ruthless, fearless brute, was just as scared as she. Who would have thought it?

"Your father is angry with me. He will stop at nothing to bring me down," she replied nonchalantly, wiping at her messy face. She absent-mindedly wondered if she had gotten any makeup on Luigi's shirt. It would be the fifth shirt of his he had accidentally ruined.

Luigi rushed over and placed an arm around Mag's tiny shoulders. "That doesn't mean you'll die, Mag." He sounded as if he was trying to convince himself just as much as her. "You don't know that," he whispered.

Magdalene sighed and turned around. "Luigi, I have broken my contract. I told him I refused to sing for him any longer. Legally, he has the right to…well…." Her voice trailed off, hoping for Luigi to finish the story. "He'll send a repo-man after me. These eyes are his." She placed one incredibly long nailed fingertip on the top of her eyelid. She sighed and turned back to the mirror. "I knew this day would come, precious."

A smack, a clutter, the cold feeling of the floor against her cheek. Luigi had reached right out and hit her hard in the face. She slowly sat up and touched her cheek. A trickle of blood ran down from her lip. A deep breath was all it took to calm her. In their twenty years together, she had become accustomed to Luigi's explosive temper. He was standing with his back to her, breathing hard.

"Shut up, Mag," he growled, "Stop being so okay with this." He bent his head and held his temples. "It's like…it's like you don't even care about leaving me. Or about Alfredo."

To her horror, Magdalene realized Luigi was crying. She took a deep breath and rose slowly to her feet. "My love," she said, embracing him from behind, "you said yourself that we could not raise Alfredo ourselves. He's perfectly safe with your brother; he never even has to know about his parents. He will not miss the mother he never knew."

Luigi looked at her with a tear-stained glare. "Well what about me? Mag, I know my father. He won't kill you tonight, no. It would ruin his big show. You know he has that big finale for tonight's opera with the Wallace girl. You're safe." He grabbed her arm with an electric force and pulled her closer to him. Mag was instantly back in that limousine on the night they met, remembering her first impression of the self-absorbed, smug boy.

Mag laughed. It wasn't a soft chuckle, or a laugh of relief, no. She genuinely let out a hearty laugh that she could not stop. This only angered Luigi further, and he backed her against a wall.

"MAGDALENE!" he screamed, clutching her as hard as he could. His eyes were like plates as he began shaking his lover's gentle shoulders. "Are you insane!" he cried.

With effort, Mag calmed herself down and smiled sweetly at the tall man holding her down. "Do you honestly believe I'm going to let Rotti and those damned repo-men have me? No, no, darling." She ripped her arms out of his clutch and crossed the room, rubbing the bruises he had left. "I'm not going down without a fight," she said.

Luigi leaned his head against the wall, giving it a hard punch. "What in God's name are you talking about, Magdalene? You can't fight repo."

Mag had been gently applying makeup to the black marks on her arms when she heard this, and slammed the bottle down. "Luigi Largo, do you not trust me?" she asked coldly, "I can handle myself."

Luigi sighed and shook his head. "Why do you have to be brave? Can't we just run away now, while we still have the chance? I would give anything to get away from the geezer, but I'm not leaving you with him. Come on. Let's just go."

Magdalene turned her back to him and began fixing fallen curls. "You know as well as I do that Rotti has henchwomen surrounding this wing. He, like you, thinks me a coward who would run from my problems."

Luigi screamed out of pure frustration. "Leave then!" he shouted, "Forget your life here and just go!"

At this, Mag finally broke. Tears again began to stream down her white cheeks as the full price of death washed over her. "Luigi, my love, come to me," she whispered.

He ran into her arms and wept into her shoulder. "I don't wanna live without you," he cried, "How would I face seeing Alfredo when I visit Pavi? You know he looks just like you. You're my world, Magdalene."

Mag stroked his oiled hair, wishing that for at least one night he would go natural and let her feel his actual locks one last time. "If I wait for the repo-man, he will definitely kill me. A woman could live without her eyes, but repo doesn't care. He would kill me just for the fun of it." Luigi wasn't sure if this speech was directed at him, as it seemed that Mag was talking to an invisible audience, but he listened intensely anyway.

"No," she continued, "I must take action now. If Rotti wants these eyes, he can have them. I would rather be blind."

Luigi's head shot up as finally realized what Mag had been planning. "You aren't serious," he said in a low voice, "Tell me you're not serious."

Mag traced the area around her inhuman eyes with her long fingernail. "A woman could live without her eyes. If I give them up myself, I may have a chance. Would you still love me...if I was blind again?"

Luigi wrapped her in a hug so tight her heeled feet came off the ground. "Magdalene DeFoe, I would love you if you were a limbless simpleton. I can't believe you would have to ask me that." He buried his face in her neck as another tear slid down his nose. "But it's still a longshot."

Magdalene nodded against Luigi's head. "I still risk your father's wrath. He might be so angry that I ruined his plan that his temper might get the best of him. My death may become a public onstage event."

With a thud, Luigi let go of his lover and let her drop to the ground. He stormed straight for the door. "I love you, Mag," he said as he reached for the handle.

"Wait!" Mag cried, standing up as fast as she could, "Can I not have one last night with you?" she pleaded. When Luigi shook his head and continued to leave, Mag closed her eyes, thinking with all her might of the first time she saw him, actually saw him. A bright light seemed to enter her mind, and her eyes shot open, filled with a blue glow.

Luigi gasped and turned around, seeing the largest projection Mag had ever produced. It filled the whole room, seeming to engulf the two of them completely. He watched the memory unfold, completely hypnotized by the sight.

Mag was only 21, Luigi was only 17. He stood in a dark alley with his brother, Pavi. They were engaged in conversation, with Pavi obviously doing most of the talking. "That new girl Papa picked up, she's positively _bello_. Now that she can see completely, and she's not always bumping into everything, I'm thinking of making my move," he was saying. His tan face threw back in laughter and his shoulder-length black hair shook with each breath.

Luigi grunted. "You pig," he snarled, looking about to pulverize his younger sibling. When Pavi only laughed more at this, he gave his brother a parting punch in the face, and walked off, his black trench coat flowing behind him.

As he turned a corner, narrowly avoiding a couple of devious grave-robbers and their trampy Z-addict groupies, he moaned and slammed himself into a wall. He pulled a cigarette out of his coat and lit it, glaring at every passer-by he saw. He brought the weed to his mouth and took in a deep drag, enjoying the feeling of nicotine-laced smoke clouding his lungs. _God I hope smoking kills me one day,_ he thought.

After about ten minutes, he heard the sound of struggle and a high-pitched crying coming from around the corner. Luigi rolled his eyes and a look of disgust passed his face. "_Pavi_," he spat. Probably trying to "woo" some grave-robber groupie.

However, he soon realized it was much more severe than he thought when he recognized that voice. _Magdalene_, he thought. He didn't know why he cared so much or why the thought of the formerly-blind girl with his womanizing brother made him so sick, but he threw his cigarette to the ground and turned to run-

-when Mag came around the corner and ran right into him. She was wearing a white toga-like dress with golden Greek sandals. Her curly black hair disheveled and she was shaking with her eyes closed. Luigi grabbed her wrists and took a good look at her. It was the first time he had seen her in months, as she had been locked in her wing of Rotti's building for the past year, getting used to her new eyes. Oh God, she was more beautiful than he remembered.

"Mag," he said, trying to cease her shaking, "What happened?"

She looked down and took a deep breath. "Nothing," she whispered, "Pavi just…" She shook her head.

"Look at me," Luigi said, touching one black strand of hair, "Please."

And she did. For the first time, Magdalene DeFoe laid eyes on Luigi Largo. She saw big, kind blue eyes and the bright young face of youth. He had a little gap in his teeth, and his hair was overly-oiled. His cologne was too strong, and his forehead was already beginning to show worry lines, but at that moment, she had never seen such beauty.

"Luigi," she gasped, "I've never…"

He laughed a little nervously. "Well… Sorry the sight ain't too pleasing."

She shook her head and smiled. "No, Luigi," she whispered, placing a hand on his cheek, "I've never been so happy to see someone in my entire life." She held both of his cheeks and looked at him long and hard. "You're…you're nothing like I imagined, Mr. Largo."

Luigi laughed a little gaily. Without knowing why, or even thinking, he leaned down and placed his rough lips against her wet, soft ones. They melted into each other, and the dirty city around them disappeared. It was Heaven, that moment. He felt a fire deep within his soul, and each second their lips stayed locked, it grew bigger. Tears ran down Mag's face at the simple, pure joy of this gesture, and even a once-blind girl knew nothing was more beautiful.

Finally, they released each other, neither one knowing what to say. Finally, Mag whispered, "Please never leave me, Luigi"

Suddenly, the scene faded away, slowly dissolving into a tiny, dirty dressing room in an old Italian opera house. Mag was 40, Luigi was 37. Both were weeping.

"Please leave me, Luigi," Magdalene whispered with a voice broken by harsh tears.

"I will never love again, Magdalene." Luigi walked straight out of the room and never saw Mag again. He was too afraid to even be present at her final show.

Suddenly, everything seemed completely calm and serene. Magdalene sat at her boudoir and wiped her remaining tears away. She re-applied her makeup to perfection, and never cried again. She took a deep breath and smiled at her reflection, and for the first time in her life, saw beauty staring back at her.

"_Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams_," she sang, "_Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before. Close your eyes, let your spirit soar. And live as you've never lived before._"

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door behind her. "Miss DeFoe," a harsh female voice said from the other side, "We need you at the stage now."

Magdalene walked straight from to the door and to the stage without a single look back, without a single sigh, without a single tear, without a single shake.

Mr. Largo held the curtain, ready to open it for her as the emcee announced her act.

"Ready?" he asked her in that same soothing, soft voice she had first heard 22 years ago.

"It's show-time, Mr. Largo," she said with a smile.


End file.
